While everyone believes something, certain convictions appear more credible than others. “And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who earnestly seek him” (Hebrews 11:16). As when Abel offered a better sacrifice than Cain. Since the former offered that which was reserved for an honored guest, while the latter made a token gesture.

Or as when Noah, when warned of the impending flood, prepared an ark for the saving of his family. He thus reprimanded those who disbelieved, and participated in the cherished legacy of faith.

“I don’t believe that you are there,” author Lee Strobel once protested. “But if you are there, I want to meet you.”

Two observations seem solicited. First, he allowed for the fact that God might exist even though he did not think this likely. This recalls one of my favorite sayings, “The more we know, the more we realize we don’t know.”

Second, he recognized that much was at stake. This was certainly no trivial matter, and hence should not be postponed. We are thus introduced to the realm of faith and credulity. It, likewise, gives rise to the notion of a reasoning faith — which less resembles a leap in the dark than pressing toward the light.

As noted in an earlier article, theologian Paul Tillich concluded: “That which serves in place of religion is in fact a religion.” This is with the understanding that religion deals with matters of ultimate concern, whether it pertains to the accumulation of riches or something less tangible.

Strobel eventually came to the conviction that the Christian faith is eminently credible. In particular, he was greatly impressed with the resurrection narratives. These held up under the most rigorous investigation, bringing to mind an experience during my doctoral studies. I was having lunch in the cafeteria when a fellow student stopped by momentarily. “I was raised in a family that rejected the resurrection, and attended a church likewise skeptical,” he confided, “but as a student of church history, I cannot account for the remarkable expansion of the early church apart from it.”

While my experience was similar to that of Strobel in some respects, it differed in others. I was serving in the military during WWII at the time. Though it had not been my custom to attend church, I would on occasion participate in a chapel service. I was quite unprepared when, as the service was nearing conclusion, the chaplain became quite emotional. I did not know what to make of his behavior, nor could I understand what he was saying.

As I was walking away from the sanctuary, it occurred that if God exists, he might employ unusual means to get one’s attention. “If you are there,” I hesitantly mused, “I will return next Sunday. Should the chaplain behave similarly, I will explore the matter.” This, however, seemed to me an unlikely scenario.

When the chaplain gave an invitation for persons to come forward, I silently protested: “That was not part of the bargain.” Waiting until those in attendance had filed out, I approached the chaplain. “I think I would like to take you up on your proposition,” I informed him — not knowing how better to express myself. He was understandably puzzled by my comment. When it dawned on him, he invited me into his office.

He subsequently drew my attention to Jesus’ pledge, “Whoever comes to me I will never drive away” (John 6:37). “If you can’t believe Jesus, who can you believe?” I reasoned to myself. Consequently, I took him at his word.

l failed to mention the publication of my most recent book: Potpourri No. 2. It consists of three studies: The Epic Conflict, Jesus As Sage and James, Jesus’ Sibling (E-BookTime). The earlier Potpourri explored Common Sense and The Conspiracies, Covenant Echoes and Amos Still Speaks (iUniverse).